The Number You Have Dialed HAS A LIFE
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Teenagers spend a lot of time on the phone.
They are very busy and important people.
Busy, busy, busy.
Important, important, important.
And I'm okay with that.
Seriously.
But they call a lot.
Look. Nobody has called me circa 1996, and I kinda like it that way.
-Now the same person will call five times in a row. And not just leave a message and move on, but just call and call and call.
And call.
First Call: If you call once and choose not to leave a message, I get that. You wanted to talk to the person live. Nothing particularly important.
Second Call: The second call presupposes something like a) you changed your mind about leaving the afore mentioned message, or b) I was in the shower: while toweling suds out of my eyes, perhaps I made a heroic effort for the phone -but the instant I got there the call switched to voicemail. I haven't called back because the dripping water probably shorted out both the voicemail and the Caller ID.
Third Call: The third call always makes me wonder what exactly our teenagers are telling people about the size of our place: Okay. Maybe I'm in the pool. While drying off the phone starts ringing again and -gasping- I realize I've locked myself out of the house and the the phone, half-forgotten, lies on the kitchen table. As a bonus, Freddy Krueger audibly starts to churn through the outer perimeters of my hedge maze.
I don't know about you, but the third unanswered call suggests to me that this isn't the best time.
Fourth Call: A fourth call leaves me totally bewildered.
Okay this scenario suggests that I'm maybe at 7-11. And as I pour my Slurpee, a crashing meteor wipes out all mankind and accidentally creates flesh eating zombies: it's only then I realize I've locked myself out of the church, and off in the distance I can hear Freddy Krueger in my hedgemaze with a pack of cheetahs -directly in the path of my house where the phone lie half-forgotten on the kitchen table. All civilization as we know it has come to an abrupt and bitter end, and one lone human being -one with me on speedial- is crying out for help as the frail atmosphere is being sucked violently from Earth by a black hole.
Frankly, I still wouldn't answer: I would obviously have my own problems to deal with.
And Humanity's last Slurpee.
[LOBO]
Teenagers spend a lot of time on the phone.They are very busy and important people.
Busy, busy, busy.
Important, important, important.
And I'm okay with that.
Seriously.
But they call a lot.
Look. Nobody has called me circa 1996, and I kinda like it that way.
-Now the same person will call five times in a row. And not just leave a message and move on, but just call and call and call.
And call.
First Call: If you call once and choose not to leave a message, I get that. You wanted to talk to the person live. Nothing particularly important.Second Call: The second call presupposes something like a) you changed your mind about leaving the afore mentioned message, or b) I was in the shower: while toweling suds out of my eyes, perhaps I made a heroic effort for the phone -but the instant I got there the call switched to voicemail. I haven't called back because the dripping water probably shorted out both the voicemail and the Caller ID.
Third Call: The third call always makes me wonder what exactly our teenagers are telling people about the size of our place: Okay. Maybe I'm in the pool. While drying off the phone starts ringing again and -gasping- I realize I've locked myself out of the house and the the phone, half-forgotten, lies on the kitchen table. As a bonus, Freddy Krueger audibly starts to churn through the outer perimeters of my hedge maze.
I don't know about you, but the third unanswered call suggests to me that this isn't the best time.
Fourth Call: A fourth call leaves me totally bewildered.
Okay this scenario suggests that I'm maybe at 7-11. And as I pour my Slurpee, a crashing meteor wipes out all mankind and accidentally creates flesh eating zombies: it's only then I realize I've locked myself out of the church, and off in the distance I can hear Freddy Krueger in my hedgemaze with a pack of cheetahs -directly in the path of my house where the phone lie half-forgotten on the kitchen table. All civilization as we know it has come to an abrupt and bitter end, and one lone human being -one with me on speedial- is crying out for help as the frail atmosphere is being sucked violently from Earth by a black hole.Frankly, I still wouldn't answer: I would obviously have my own problems to deal with.
And Humanity's last Slurpee.
Comments
My phone is always in my pants anyway ;-)
That sure would be something to brag about in the parallel dimension where earth wasn't post-apocalypse.